


Playing Favorites

by litsasecret



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-06
Updated: 2010-10-06
Packaged: 2017-10-12 11:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litsasecret/pseuds/litsasecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neil is pretty sure he's completely screwed and it's all Adam's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Favorites

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Dreamwidth comm [](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**fic_promptly**](http://fic-promptly.dreamwidth.org/).

Neil watched as the crew, the _glamily_ , got drunk on Adam's famous mystery cocktails (which he'd learned long ago to never touch) while he nursed his first beer. It was almost empty, but he wasn't up to his way through the seething mass of his charges (and they _were_ his responsibility, every one of them, even if the only people who understood were the drivers and Lane) which was growing more and more orgiastic as more and more of Adam's magic punch was served out.

He'd just swallowed the last of the beer when Tommy pulled away from the rest of the group with one last smacking kiss for Taylor.

Neil rolled his eyes, because a drunken Tommy was almost as bad with the inappropriate affection as Adam. Neil preferred not to think about how inappropriate his brother's affection was usually, because surely in some cultures being randomly kissed by your gay older brother in the heat of affection, surprise, or success was perfectly acceptable. Surely.

Which was just too damned bad because he was overwhelmingly normal otherwise, at least compared to the rest of them. A fear of heights and a little bit of shyness were totally acceptable idiosyncrasies, especially against the backdrop of refusing to eat unpeeled apples or a _soul patch_.

Neil secretly liked Tommy best. Sober.

Drunk, Tommy was a lapful of cuddly affection and eagerness. Neil steadied him, not because he was eager to have a lapful of Tommy, but because otherwise Tommy might tumble backwards onto the floor. The last thing Neil needed was a trip to the E.R.. Plus, Adam would blame him (and rightfully) if Tommy fell off his lap and got a concussion.

"Got you a present," Tommy said, smiling happily and holding up a beer. Neil looked over Tommy's head to Adam who, sure enough, was staring right at the two of them. Catching Neil's gaze, Adam winked.

Damn him.

Tommy pulled a bottle opener out of his pocket; which was more work than that statement implies. It involved Tommy squirming and writhing around on Neil's lap in an effort to produce the bottle opener, which someone (probably Adam, come on,) had stashed in his overly tight jeans' pocket.

Tommy then popped the cap off the beer with a pleased little hum, and some combination of the friction and warmth of someone, _anyone_ , in his lap; the mild buzz from the single beer barely heating his blood; and that tiny, kittenish noise; had warmth gathering in his gut and settling lower until it might have been, in another situation, arousal.

And he was the last person to espouse ideals of gender binaries and black and white sexuality, because, well, duh, but it was still a little off-putting.

He was trying to figure out how to politely (and safely) get Tommy off of him when Tommy put the bottle to his lips and took a long pull.

Neil swallowed reflexively. Tommy turned that soppy smile on him again, lips damp with what Neil knew to be a very malty, almost sweet beer, and Neil let his head fall back against the couch in frustration. Damn Adam anyway.

Then Tommy giggled, an almost feminine noise, and said, "Oops. That was supposed to be yours." Followed almost immediately by Tommy's lips on his.

He gasped, so Tommy slid his tongue between his lips, and Neil's hands went to Tommy's shoulders to shove him away, but he stopped himself before he could put any force behind them.

Even under these modified circumstances, he couldn't just shove Tommy off, sloppy drunk as he was and hard as the floor remained.

Instead, he shifted his right hand to the back of Tommy's head, grabbed a handful of Tommy's hair, and pried him off, all the while ignoring the disturbing parallels to Adam's stage performances.

Tommy hummed a little, then frowned. It transformed his face, pouty and sad.

"Guess shotgunning works better if I haven't swallowed yet."

"Usually," Neil agreed.

"Sorry," Tommy said, offering Neil the beer which had, remarkably, not spilled.

As soon as he relinquished it, he squirmed around until he could rest his head against Neil's shoulder.

It occurred to Neil, as he simply _allowed_ Tommy to do it, that he was utterly screwed.

After all, Tommy _was_ his favorite.


End file.
